


A Dusty Old Book in the Back of the Library

by MilkMoustachesAreCool



Series: Next Generation [5]
Category: Lovely Little Losers, Nothing Much to Do
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 08:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5779033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkMoustachesAreCool/pseuds/MilkMoustachesAreCool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well what does impossible mean?" asked Benedick in his 'Doctor Who' voice that Beatrice was so painfully familiar with - that elongated 'well' really drove her crazy. "I mean, if you told someone a thousand years ago that we could carry every piece of information in the world around on a tiny device in our pocket they would say that's impossible. Maybe it's just something we can't understand yet. Maybe it makes perfect sense, we just haven't heard the explanation yet."</p><p>"You just want time travel to be real," accused Beatrice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dusty Old Book in the Back of the Library

It was raining. Not particularly heavily, but enough to irritate the already disgruntled Benedick. What sort of pathetic fallacy was this? As raindrop after raindrop splashed down onto Benedick's head, he decided to seek shelter somewhere - but where? The coffee shop? No, it was too cheerful for his current mood. The local bar? No way, that was far too much of cliche, seeking refuge in a bar after a fight with his wife. He could always go into the supermarket and browse until the rain stopped, but what if he met someone he knew and was forced to make conversation? No, the supermarket wouldn't do either.

Suddenly, as Ben rounded the corner into the village square, he realised the answer. The library was still open. It would be quiet in there, no one would disturb him. He could find one of Marlowe's plays to seek comfort in before going home again. Marlowe made everything better.

He went inside and walked directly to the classics section. He passed Austen and Bronte and Dickens and finally found his way to the large Marlowe collection. He browsed through the individual titles, trying to decide which one to choose. Faustus was, of course, his favourite, but today he felt like something a little less familiar. He was trying to choose between Dido, Queen of Carthage and The Jew of Malta when something caught his eye - a thick, faded orange volume on the bottom shelf. Curious, he bent down to pull it out.

'The Complete Works of William Shakespeare' the cover read, 'with a life of the Poet'.

Intrigued, he opened the book and turned to the biography at the front. He scanned it quickly and gathered that this Shakespeare character had been a contemporary of Marlowe's. Fascinated, Benedick brought the book over to a desk and sat down. He couldn't believe that he had never heard of this guy before. Turning to the first play, 'Tempest', he read a scene or two.

He couldn't believe how good it was. This guy was certainly as good as Marlowe, if not better! Ben was Marlowe's biggest fan, but this was undeniably giving Marlowe a run for his money. He flicked to the middle of the book and found a section of comedies. Flicking through some of the titles he paused at one called 'Much Ado About Nothing'. Seeing the title at the top of the page he smiled to himself. Beatrice would certainly appreciate that. When he thought of Beatrice, a pang went through his chest, reminding him of their fight. Determined to forget, he lowered his eyes to read the play. Within seconds, all thoughts of his fight had been forgotten.

Persons represented:  
Don Pedro  
Don John  
Claudio  
Benedick  
Leonato  
Balthazar  
Borachio  
Dogberry  
Verges  
Hero  
Beatrice  
Margaret  
Ursula

Give or take a few names, the characters in this book all had the same names as his friends. Ben's ears roared. What was going on? How was this possible?

Dumbfounded, he read on. About three hours later he closed the book. He sort of felt like being sick, but also like running throught he streets as fast as he possibly could and screaming out loud. He did neither. He brought the book up to the main desk.

"Excuse me, can you tell me about this book please?" he asked the librarian.

"Of course, what would you like to know?" she smiled up at him.

"Um, this author - William Shakespeare he - he -" what should Benedick even ask? Was he a magician? Was he fake? Was this some elaborate joke? "Was he around at the same time as Christopher Marlowe?"

Silly question. It said so in the biography.

"Yes, I believe that Marlowe inspired Shakespeare to a certain extent," said the librarian.

"Can you - can you just tell me a little bit more about Shakespeare, please?" asked Benedick.

"Of course. We have biographies on him, if you're interested," offered the librarian. "I believe there's one at the start of that volume, if you'd like to borrow it?"

"Yes it's just I'm not sure I have time to read all that much and I'd like to know as much as I can about him before I go home," babbled Benedick.

If the librarian was confused or amused she didn't show it.

"Well, Shakespeare was an English writer from the sixteenth century. He wrote plays and sonnets. His plays were performed in the Globe Theatre. He wasn't very successful in life or death, although his works have remained in circulation, however unpopular. Scholars and critics tend to consider him much more talented than Marlowe, however Marlowe has remained the more popular author. Is there anything else in particular you'd like to know?"

"Okay," said Benedick, knowing he would probably look like an idiot when he said what he was about to say. "Okay, just tell me - is this some sort of prank? Did one of my friends ask you to do this? Pedro? Or Claud? Even Bea? Or maybe Olive, she might think this was funny?"

The librarian looked at Benedick like he was crazy. "I'm sorry sir, I don't know who any of those people are. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"So you're telling me - one hundred percent truthfully - this Shakespeare guy is legit. He was really real. And these plays are real. This play. Much Ado About Nothing. Was really written in the sixteenth century. And you're sure. You're not lying."

The librarian looked somewhat alarmed now. "Yes sir, this is all real. Would you like to borrow the book or not?"

Clearly the librarian wanted this crazy, manic, babbling man to leave as soon as possible. Benedick fished his wallet out of his jacket pocket and produced his library card. 

It was raining even harder when he left the library but he barely noticed. He protected the book under his jacket. Before he knew where he was, he was turning in the driveway of the house.

When he opened the door he immediately sought Beatrice out.

"Well look who decided to show up," said Beatrice bitterly.

Benedick had forgotten all about their fight.

"I'm sorry Bea, I didn't mean to stay out so long I just -"

"It's fine, do whatever you want," shrugged Beatrice. "And if you want dinner, go make it yourself. Olivia and I have already eaten."

"No Beatrice listen to me, I have to show you something," insisted Benedick. "I really am sorry about earlier but that doesn't matter now."

"Doesn't matter? What, just because you're not angry any more I'm not allowed to be angry anymore? That's not how it works Ben," said Beatrice coldly.

Benedick slammed the book down in front of Beatrice.

"What's this?" she asked, clearly surprised by this turn of events.

"A library book," replied Benedick.

"And why are you showing it to me?" asked Beatrice.

"William Shakespeare," began Benedick. "A contemporary of Marlowe. Wrote plays and sonnets in the sixteenth century. Loads of them. He's better than Marlowe, Beatrice."

"Great, you've found a new old playwrite to read. What has that got to do with me?"

Benedick flipped to the page entitled Much Ado About Nothing. "Read that."

"Why?" laughed Beatrice humourlessly. "You like old playwrites Benedick, not me. I'm not interested in this, no matter how good it is."

"It's not because it's good it's because - just read it! Even just read the character list! Please!"

Beatrice sighed heavily and lowered her eyes. Within seconds, however, her entire body tensed up. "What is this Ben?" she asked.

"It's a play written in the sixteenth century about our lives," said Benedick shortly.

"Well that's obviously impossible," replied Beatrice. "Is this some sort of joke? Because if so it's really bad."

"No joke. Just read it."

*

At about midnight, Ben and Beatrice sat at their kitchen table, staring down at the chunky orange book on the table in front of them.

"What do we do?" asked Beatrice.

"What can we do?" asked Benedick in reply.

"Well it must be some sort of practical joke," said Beatrice, her brow furrowed.

"If it, it's an incredibly elaborate one. There are so many wikipedia pages related to this guy, and tumblr blogs and pinterest boards and Jesus Bea, people have even written fanfiction about this guy's characters. I even stumbled across a fanfiction pairing Christopher Marlowe with him."

"Well that makes sense I suppose, they were around at the same time apparently," said Beatrice reasonably before shaking her head. "But that is so not the point! This can't be actually real, right? I mean you agree with me that it's literally impossible for this to be authentic, right?"

"I don't know Bea, it's quite convincing," said Ben slowly.

"Convincing but impossible, right?" Beatrice persevered, determined not to let one book change how she viewed the entire world - no matter how tempting it was.

"Well what does impossible mean?" asked Benedick in his 'Doctor Who' voice that Beatrice was so painfully familiar with - that elongated 'well' really drove her crazy. "I mean, if you told someone a thousand years ago that we could carry every piece of information in the world around on a tiny device in our pocket they would say that's impossible. Maybe it's just something we can't understand yet. Maybe it makes perfect sense, we just haven't heard the explanation yet."

"You just want time travel to be real," accused Beatrice.

"Who doesn't want time travel to be real Beatrice?" asked Benedick scathingly.

"Okay but no matter how much we want it it isn't real. It just isn't!"

The discussion lasted until about three in the morning, then continued in whispers throughout the next two weeks whenever the two of them were alone, or at least thought they were alone. Everyone knew that there was something strange going on with Beatrice and Benedick but no one had any quite idea how strange. Meanwhile, Benedick continued reading the plays and sonnets in the large library book.

*

"Beatrice this one - Love's Labours Lost - I think it's about that year I was in Uni in Wellington! It matches up - and the title! Love's Labours Lost sounds like Lovely Little Losers, and Much Ado About Nothing sounds like Nothing Much To Do...Beatrice it's all based on anytime we did YouTube! Maybe this Shakespeare guy somehow ended up with access to YouTube back in the day!"

"Absolutely Benedick," murmured Beatrice. "You've clearly cracked the code. Well done."

*

"Beatrice..." began Benedick slowly one afternoon. "This was all a bit funny for a while but it just went too far." He was holding the library book tightly in his hands.

"What is it?" asked Beatrice, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Do you happen to know what the kids do in their free time?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think there's any chance they've delved into the whole YouTube world like we did?"

"I doubt it, I never hear them talking about anything like that," shrugged Beatrice.

"Well every play I've read so far, I've managed to find some connection with YouTube but this one..."

"Oh just spit it out Ben," snapped Beatrice.

"It's called Twelfth Night. It has characters - characters called Olivia. And Viola. And Sebastian. I could go on."

Beatrice's face turned white.

"Okay that's it, we have to tell the others now," she said quietly. "They're involved now too. I swear to God if this is some sort of prank, someone is going to die. I'm still up for eating hearts."

"That's a line in our play. Much Ado About Nothing."

"Ben, if I hear one more word, I may literally explode. Or I'll actually eat your heart out, not just threaten like I have in the past. In many pasts, it seems."

**Author's Note:**

> Lol okay not sure where I was going with this, just wanted to see how the characters would react in this situation. May or may not add more in the future. Enjoy!


End file.
